Scars Like Spiderwebs
by rawrrkitty
Summary: There's ugliness there, worrying at them from under their skins. Jemima and Tumblebrutus are to be mated in three days' time, but there's a shadow waiting and a delicate balance quite ready to be tipped.
1. Apprehension

**a/n: Hello, and welcome to 'Scars Like Spiderwebs' – an idea that popped into my brain about 3 or 4 years ago that I never quite expanded into anything more than this first chapter here. Now, I'm back to finish things off.**

**It's linked to the oneshot 'Perfect Calm', although you don't need to read that to gain any real insight into what's happening in this story. While I imagine the characters as they are in the 1998 film version, with ears, tails, claws, etc, there are distinctly human elements to their lives.**

**If you've already read the first chapter, I've made a few changes here and there to make it consistent with the plot I've worked out. Not too much is different because I'm incredibly lazy. I'm currently expecting this story to come out to around 12 chapters and potentially around 40,000-50,000 words. As such, updates may be sporadic, but I think they'll be worth any waiting you have to do!**

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><p><em>apprehension<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Three days before the mating ceremony. Morning time.<strong>

The day had started off fairly normal for Tumblebrutus. He'd woken up looking into Jemima's smiling eyes and kissed her, despite their morning breath. They'd gotten up and walked out and discussed their mating ceremony with various cats before heading back for their breakfast.

As they'd eaten, Tumblebrutus had whispered into Jemima's ear. "Three days," he'd said. Three days before they'd be joined, mated before the rest of the Jellicles. She smiled delightedly.

They split apart so that Jemima could have some queen time with Victoria. Tumblebrutus had debated on what to do before heading to Munkustrap's den.

"How are you and my daughter doing?" the silver tom had asked.

"Just fine," Tumblebrutus had responded, beaming. And then he'd paused. "Look, I know it's been months now, but-"

"I don't think we're going to find Pouncival," Munkustrap had interrupted gently, placing a consoling hand on Tumblebrutus' shoulder.

"I want him to be there for me," Tumblebrutus had said, sighing heavily. "He's my best friend."

Munkustrap didn't bother to correct Tumblebrutus' use of the present tense. "I'm sorry, Tumblebrutus," he had said.

And that had been it.

But the day certainly did not end normally.

(x)(x)(x)

**Three days before the mating ceremony. Evening.**

"What do you mean, she went for a short walk?" Tumblebrutus gripped Victoria's shoulder tightly,

"She left hours ago," Victoria said, eyes wide. "You mean she hasn't come back yet?"

Tumblebrutus shook his head, tight-lipped. "She… she said she'd be home in time for dinner, but… I assumed maybe she had forgotten because she was hanging out with you."

They stared at each other for a few moments, then both simultaneously spoke. "Munkustrap."

Munkustrap moved very fast when he needed to. He snapped out, "Victoria, stay back and make sure none of the other queens leave the Junkyard. Tumblebrutus, come with me."

Victoria stared sullenly after them as they both ran.

"Tumblebrutus, start searching the area east of the Junkyard. I'll gather a search party and search the other areas, okay?" Munkustrap barked out. Tumblebrutus merely nodded, cold with worry, and did as Munkustrap said.

He managed to pick up Jemima's scent, but almost as soon as he started following it, there was a flash of brilliant white light and rain started pouring down. Groaning and already damp, Tumblebrutus resolved to simply continue in the direction he'd started in.

It wasn't a pleasant task. The ground was wet and slick, causing Tumblebrutus to skid as he ran. Every so often he'd step in a puddle by accident, though it meant very little as Tumblebrutus was already soaked through.

"Jemima," he told himself, teeth clattering. "I need to find her."

He was out for so long that he wasn't even sure where he was by the time he finally came across something. The streets and alleyways he was stumbling through were completely deserted – no one else was out in a torrential downpour like this. Tumblebrutus looked down and at his feet, mixed with the flow of rainwater down a drain, was the stark red of blood.

"Jemima?" he whispered hesitantly.

"Tumble…brutus…?"

Tumblebrutus was sure he knew the voice, but it wasn't Jemima's. He rushed down the alleyway and almost tripped over the mass of sodden fur at his feet.

"Tumble…" came a weak moan.

Tumblebrutus fell to his knees, eyes wide. The tom was sprawled across the ground, weakly lifting his head to look at Tumblebrutus…

"Pouncival?" he whispered.

Pouncival's fur was matted and he was covered in dirt, but the worst thing about his appearance was that there were freely bleeding wounds gouged across his entire body. None of them looked deep enough to kill, but they certainly looked painful. "Bast… what happened to you?" Tumblebrutus breathed, horrified.

Pouncival shook his head, wetting his cracked lips. "Jem… Jemima…" he forced out, gesturing behind him.

Tumblebrutus looked up. If he squinted, he could just make out the shape of another cat, stuffed into a large bin. He couldn't breathe. Bast, he couldn't-

"Jemima!" he choked out desperately.

He rushed straight to the bin and carefully lifted the calico queen out. She, too, had wounds all over her body. She flopped limply in his arms. For a second, he could only stare at her bloody lips before realizing that he could hear the sound of her breathing. Her breaths came in soft, uneven rasps, but she was breathing.

"Great Bast…" he mumbled, holding her a little tighter. He turned back to where Pouncival was lay. "What happened?" he said, trying to hold back a sob.

"I… don't know," was all Pouncival said.

Tumblebrutus waited, but Pouncival didn't offer any other explanation. Gritting his teeth, he decided he couldn't afford to wait. "Pouncival… stay here. I'll be back for you," he promised.

Pouncival made a small, whimpering sort of a noise. "Be fast."

No – it certainly was _not_ a normal day for Tumblebrutus.

(x)(x)(x)

**Three days before the mating ceremony. Late at night.**

Night.

Outside, someone whistled. _The wind,_ Tumblebrutus had to remind himself.

The look on Jemima's face was very _sincere_. Tumblebrutus had no other way to describe it. Her lips twitched in sync to the dreams she dreamed, her eyelids flickering like a butterfly's wings. Sometimes she would gasp, sometimes she would murmur, sometimes she would cry out, fear etched into the sound. Tumblebrutus placed a hand to her warm forehead and mumbled soothing nothings in her ear.

She wouldn't wake. The blood and the mud had been meticulously wiped from her fur. Scars ran like cobwebs across her body, now covered in bandages, but if Tumblebrutus looked at her face, he could forget that he'd found his Jemima stuffed into a cardboard box like a piece of trash. He forced himself to look.

"_She will be fine_," Jennyanydots had told him far earlier that night.

_She'll be fine_, Tumblebrutus thought. He lowered his head so that the shadows rolled out across his face, hiding his eyes. He pulled a hand away from Jemima's cheek and held it across his mouth to muffle the fact that his breathing was hitching, that he was on the verge of crying.

Three days before their mating, someone had attempted to kill Jemima.

Two days now until their mating. Two days, two nights, no sleeps. Tumblebrutus knew there wasn't a hope of sleep.

"Tumble…"

Tumblebrutus turned around. He'd been bent over Jemima's bed all night. It was his responsibility to be there with her, after all. He'd almost, _almost_ forgotten that Pouncival was just behind him in the other bed in the den. Tumblebrutus got up and knelt beside Pouncival. "Hey," he said softly.

Pouncival's eyes were half-lidded. He looked dazed. He reached out one hand and touched Tumblebrutus' face. "Your eyes are all red," he murmured, biting his lip. "I've never seen you cry." His tone was questioning.

"Oh, I, uh…" Tumblebrutus turned away for a second, wiping them hurriedly. "Don't worry," he said finally, turning back to Pouncival. "How are you?"

Pouncival closed his eyes. "Tired," he muttered through barely parted lips.

"Sleep," Tumblebrutus advised.

Pouncival nodded slightly. Tumblebrutus watched him drift – he could tell by the way Pouncival breathed that he wasn't _quite_ asleep. When Pouncival was asleep, there was a rasping sort of quality to his breathing. Tumblebrutus had learned to bear it after years of their friendship, of sleepovers and staying up rebelliously late. Sleeping in the same room as Jemima was very different – while both Jemima and Pouncival were relatively loud sleepers, Jemima tended to murmur every so often while Pouncival just breathed loudly.

Tumblebrutus knew both cats better than he knew himself. And now he was sitting between them. What had happened?

Pouncival still wasn't asleep. Sighing, Tumblebrutus touched his arm. Pouncival's eyes snapped open.

"Huh…?"

"You can't sleep, Pouncival, can you?" Tumblebrutus tilted his head.

"No." Pouncival's reply was simple, concise. His eyes seemed to be trying to tell a story to Tumblebrutus. Tumblebrutus didn't understand. Pouncival sighed and, grunting, sat up. Tumblebrutus sat on the bed and wrapped an arm around Pouncival's shoulders, supporting him.

"You can tell me…" Tumblebrutus said. "Best friends," he added as a reminder.

"Yeah…" Pouncival lowered his head, his chin almost touching his chest. A shaft of moonlight filtered into the den, playing across his face, illuminating his troubled eyes. "I… I know Jellicles sleep during the night. Wake during the day. Like… like humans."

"Except the night of the Jellicle Ball," Tumblebrutus put in thoughtfully. "We sleep all night, all day, then wake with all the energy in the world…"

Pouncival continued as if Tumblebrutus hadn't said anything, though there was a melancholy sort of look on his face now. "I've been sleeping during the day of late. So… I'm not used to sleeping in the dark anymore. I'm used to the sun being up. I feel a little safer that… you know, that the sun's watching me."

Tumblebrutus chewed the inside of his cheek. In truth, he was worried. He wanted to ask Pouncival where he'd been these past three months, just why he didn't feel safe enough to sleep during the night. But he refrained, because knew Pouncival. He knew the slight twitch of his tail meant he didn't want to talk about something. "I see," Tumblebrutus said softly, though he wanted to say so much more. "You're safe here, Pounce. The Junkyard."

Pouncival stared contemplatively at a wall. "Habits like this one are hard to break," he said finally.

Tumblebrutus just squeezed his shoulder and wrapped his arm a little tighter around Pouncival. In the three months he'd been missing, he'd definitely changed. It was as if Tumblebrutus was trying to comfort a stranger, a stranger that was far too familiar for comfort. It was damned strange to see Pouncival's face lacking his usual, easygoing smile, to see him so scrawny, to see him so very quiet.

And yet… it was still Pouncival. There was the scar, the one across his eye, the one he used to claim made the ladies love him. Pouncival in the way he curled and uncurled his toes. Pouncival's ragged-smooth fur. Tumblebrutus sighed, just _frustrated_. Across the room, Jemima hummed in the back of her throat.

"Tumble…" Pouncival's voice sounded in Tumblebrutus' ear. "Um…" He sounded awfully indecisive…

"Yes?"

"Jemima… are you dating her?" Pouncival asked slowly, eyebrows furrowing.

"You could say that." Tumblebrutus smiled sadly, fondly. "After you disappeared, she and I…" He cut himself off, suddenly remembering that Pouncival and Jemima had been dating before Pouncival had gone missing. It hadn't been anything serious, according to the both of them, but what if it made Pouncival uncomfortable? "We were to be mated in two days time. But in the light of this, it may have to be postponed. If she even loves me anymore for letting _that_ happen."

"Oh." Pouncival shifted uncomfortably. Tumblebrutus turned to him and saw him struggling for words. "Congratulations… in a way, I guess… and I'm sorry too."

"You don't have to be sorry," Tumblebrutus said, jaw tight. "It's not like this is your fault or anything."

Pouncival paused. "No… but I still feel sorry."

Tumblebrutus rolled his eyes. "At least you're back," he said. "I didn't really want to do something like get mated without my best friend there, but… everyone… we'd all given up. We thought you were dead."

"I'm alive," Pouncival said, as if that wasn't already blatantly obvious. There was a sharp, bitter note to his voice.

"Yeah," Tumblebrutus agreed. As an afterthought, he added, "Even if you're… different."

Pouncival flinched. "I guess that's what happens, huh? We change. We all change. You change. I change." He pulled away from Tumblebrutus. "Right…?"

"Ah… I'm sorry." Tumblebrutus had never known Pouncival to be so sensitive.

"I'm going to sleep now," Pouncival said stiffly. Getting the message, Tumblebrutus stood up and moved back over to Jemima's bed.

But Tumblebrutus listened. And Pouncival did not fall asleep.

(x)(x)(x)

**Two days before the mating ceremony. Morning.**

Tumblebrutus was herded out of the den the next morning by an irritable Jennyanydots.

"Yes, we all know you're worried," she said briskly. "Jemima is your mate-to-be and Pouncival is your best friend, but there really isn't enough space in the den for you to be moping around. So out! Out!"

Dejectedly, Tumblebrutus had shuffled out. Jellicles here and there offered their condolences and Tumblebrutus just kept smiling sadly and nodding his thanks, even though he thought all these displays of sympathy were just as meaningless as they'd been three months ago, when they all thought he'd lost his best friend. _Saying sorry isn't enough. We need to take action_.

And so he ended up in Munkustrap's den, watching while pretending not to watch as the silver tom comforted a near-hysterical Demeter. He only then remembered, with a guilty lurch, that he was not the only one who was suffering. Jemima was Munkustrap and Demeter's daughter.

"Munkustrap, you need to get out there and find the wretched thing that did this to her," Demeter said bitterly.

Munkustrap said nothing. His brow was furrowed.

"Don't you think so, Tumble?" Demeter turned her swollen eyes upon him and he nodded hastily. Anything to appease an upset queen.

"Yeah," he said. "I'll search if no one else will."

"That's for Jemima to decide," Munkustrap said sharply, causing Demeter to send him a resentful look. "No, look – it's not as if she's dead, right?" Demeter flinched at this. "We need to hear her thoughts on this before we do anything."

"But-" Tumblebrutus paused, needing a moment to formulate his jumbled thoughts. "They could get away by then! I mean… there might be clues waiting for us! They could easily just cover their tracks."

Munkustrap scratched his head. "I suppose that's true," he sighed. "By the way, you said you found Pouncival pretty much right next to Jemima. What did he have to say?"

"He says he doesn't know what happened," Tumblebrutus sighed. "I only asked him once, so I'm not sure if he's, you know, lying or something." _Why would he lie to me? Why would my best friend lie?_ "But I don't think he's quite ready to be, uh… questioned yet. I hate to wait, but I don't like seeing him upset." _Like last night._

"It's your say, Tumble." Munkustrap's expression softened. "You know him far better than the rest of us."

"Well… thanks." Tumblebrutus flushed a little. He wasn't used to the Protector treating him like this. Like he was a responsible cat rather than just his daughter's tomfriend.

"So, you think that we should check for clues in case the culprit covers his tracks?" For a moment, Munkustrap's face turned playful. Just a single moment. "Alright then, Tumblebrutus. You lead the way."

"Huh? Oh, okay then."

Demeter watched them, her face inscrutable, as they left the den and headed out.

(x)(x)(x)

**Two days before the mating ceremony. Noon.**

When they arrived, the first scent that hit Tumblebrutus' nostrils was that of blood. Jemima's… or Pouncival's? He shuddered a little.

"Right, so… Jemima was in this bin here, correct?" Munkustrap was all business, his face wiped clean of any emotion he was perhaps feeling. Tumblebrutus merely nodded. "Strange," Munkustrap continued, peering downwards. "It's completely clean."

"What?" Tumblebrutus rushed over at once. "No, I swear… there was something in there, trash or… or I dunno, but it was all… all bloody too."

"There are blood traces," Munkustrap nodded. How he could sound so professional at a time like this, Tumblebrutus wasn't sure.

"No… no there aren't," Tumblebrutus frowned. As far as he could see, the bin was entirely clean of anything. There wasn't even any dirt inside.

"What I meant," Munkustrap explained patiently, "Is that I can still _smell_ the blood. It's very distinct."

"…Oh." Yes, Tumblebrutus could see what Munkustrap was getting at after all.

"Hmm…" Munkustrap frowned a little. "I suppose, because it was raining last night – bloody hard, at that – perhaps that might've washed everything away, but…" He shook his head decisively. "No, that can't be right."

Tumblebrutus was finding it difficult to keep up with Munkustrap's blindingly fast thought processes. "Uh… what?"

"It's not as if the rain can wash away rubbish, and you were certain there was rubbish inside, correct?" Tumblebrutus nodded dumbly. "And besides, another thing – rain can't wash itself away. This bin, it's dry, even when the ground around it is still damp."

Munkustrap was right, again. There was still a squelch every time Tumblebrutus moved, that uncomfortable feeling of wet earth clinging to the soles of his feet. And the puddles – he couldn't count how many times he'd stepped in them. It wasn't the sort of day where moisture would just evaporate anyway.

"Someone's been interfering," Munkustrap said darkly. "You were right, Tumblebrutus. Whoever did this has probably removed any evidence by now."

Tumblebrutus inhaled deeply, then slumped against the closest surface – the brick wall of next building. "Yeah, I thought something like this might happen."

"We've got to get back immediately," Munkustrap said suddenly. "No time to be wasting out here."

"Wait – what about where Pouncival was?" Tumblebrutus frowned and ran over to the spot he vividly remembered seeing Pouncival sprawled on the ground.

"What about it?" Munkustrap said irritably. "We can assume that there's nothing left to see here."

"We can't be certain," Tumblebrutus said, stubborn. He swiped a hand over the ground and was almost choked by the cloud of dust that flew up. "You know, Munkustrap," he remarked. "It's really dry over here, too."

That caught Munkustrap's attention. "What, on the ground?" Tumblebrutus looked sideways at the silver tom as he crouched down next to him. "Oh, Bast – you're right. You're certain you found Pouncival here?"

"Yes."

They both looked at each other for a second, wordless. Then, "This earth smells too fresh," Munkustrap said. They both began to kick at the dry earth, neither sure of what they were doing, both hoping to uncover something, _anything_.

"Wait – stop." Tumblebrutus' voice was a mere whisper as he bent down. "It's wet under the surface. And look."

Blood. Pouncival's blood, probably. And there, absolutely swaddled in dust, was a claw. It had been torn violently out, by the looks of it. Even better though, was the lock of mottled fur clinging to the point of the claw.

"Well, Tumblebrutus," Munkustrap said grimly. "Let's see what we can do with this. Erm… how about you stay here a while. I'll head back to the Junkyard and see if anyone can identify this particular pattern of fur."

"It might just be Jemima's or Pouncival's," Tumblebrutus said softly.

"It could be. But it's all we have at the moment. Keep searching, Tumblebrutus. I'll be back."

Munkustrap headed out, gingerly carrying the claw. Tumblebrutus watched him go, then continued to kick at the patch of dry ground. After a while, though, the work grew tedious and Tumblebrutus couldn't find anything except more blood and bits of muddied fur that were utterly useless in their amount and state. So he stopped and sat on a cardboard box to rest a while.

It was then that he noticed something that he and Munkustrap had to have been _blind_ to miss.

Words. There were words on the brick wall. The wall he'd been leaning against earlier, just slightly further into the alleyway and close to the ground.

_Watch out, Pouncival._

They were scratched in, perhaps with a stone or something. Tumblebrutus' breath caught in fear. Suddenly, felt distinctly uncomfortable being on his own at the scene of a crime like this. Just looking for somewhere a little safer, Tumblebrutus crawled behind a cardboard box, thinking he'd wait it out there. But there was no relief for him. _More_ words.

_There's nothing within and there's nothing without._

_Believing is no matter of reality._

"Pouncival, is that you?"

_What…?_ Tumblebrutus tensed, raising his eyes upwards. That voice… muffled as it was, it sounded awfully familiar.

"No, it's not Pouncival, is it? How curious…"

Tumblebrutus quailed.

"Not Pouncival…who could you be?" The voice spoke in a mocking, sing-song way. "I see you," it added, and Tumblebrutus heard footsteps approaching.

"It's not me," Tumblebrutus shouted, terrified out of his mind. He couldn't comprehend what he was saying, only that he was desperate for the voice to disappear. For surely, this cat had something to do with the reason why Pouncival had been gone for three long months. Tumblebrutus' mind felt slow, clouded over.

"It's… not?" The voice faltered. "Then… who are you, if you're not you?"

"Not Pouncival," Tumblebrutus said, taking a deep breath. "It's just… me."

"Well then, hello." Tumblebrutus felt a cool breath in his ear and fingers brushing against his neck. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes, Tumblebrutus?"

He couldn't help it. He fainted.

(x)(x)(x)

**Two days before the mating ceremony. Early afternoon.**

"Tumblebrutus?"

Waking up was a slow thing. In comparison to the warm darkness that enveloped him when he slept, the grey light of day burned.

"What are you…?" Munkustrap prodded him in the shoulder. "Hey! This is no time to be sleeping!"

"No, it isn't, is it," Tumblebrutus mumbled as he sat up, clutching his forehead. "Ohh… my head…"

"What's wrong?"

"My head hurts, that's all," Tumblebrutus said quickly. "What… what happened?"

"I'm not sure," Munkustrap said quietly. "But look around."

_Let's play hide and go seek. Where am I? Where are you? Will anyone ever find you?_

_What if no one ever seeks? Will you have to find yourself?_

_Or are we going to hide forever?_

"What…?" Tumblebrutus said lowly. New words were scrawled across the wall. The threat to Pouncival was still there, but now there was the addition of this crazed writing.

"Did you do this?" Munkustrap said bluntly.

"Of course not," Tumblebrutus mumbled. "Are you mad? Why would I?"

"Oh, I don't know." Munkustrap shook his head, gritting his teeth. "But there's one thing that needs to be asked of you."

"What?"

"Why was your fur caught on the end of the claw, Tumblebrutus?"

(x)(x)(x)

**Two days before the mating ceremony. Late at night.**

After being brought back to the Junkyard, the fur was shown to Tumblebrutus again. And yes, it matched. It matched up so perfectly with this one patch on his tail that Munkustrap could even point out the area where a great lump of fur had been ripped out.

How no one had noticed beforehand mystified Tumblebrutus.

"So, tell me – was it you who did this?" Munkustrap said, eyes cold.

"Obviously not," Tumblebrutus snapped.

"Were you attacked by anyone upon finding Pouncival and Jemima?"

"I think I would've mentioned that beforehand."

Munkustrap shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. "Tumblebrutus, please… co-operate."

"I'm answering your questions to the best of my ability," Tumblebrutus said wearily. "I have no idea what's going on here – I probably know about as much as you do."

"Well, just recap. What exactly happened that night after I sent you off to search for Jemima?"

"I followed her scent until it started to rain and I lost the trail. Then I just kept going in the general direction she was heading."

"Do you think, perhaps, Jemima had a reason for going to that specific alleyway?" Munkustrap interrupted, new light in his eyes.

Tumblebrutus hesitated. "I wouldn't know," he said. "I've never been there before in my life and I don't remember ever seeing Jemima go there either."

"Alright then. Keep going."

Tumblebrutus was about to continue when there was a polite clearing of the throat behind them. He turned and saw Demeter standing timidly just outside the den, eyes half-lidded with fatigue. "Munkustrap, it's really late," she said softly. Tumblebrutus then remembered that Munkustrap had taken him back to his own den to be questioned. Looking around, he saw the bed, not yet slept in, a dinner half-eaten, all over the place signs of their comfortable family life.

"I'm sorry, Demeter," he said quickly, even before Munkustrap had time to get over his wide-eyed surprise. "Munkustrap, if you really need to talk, my den's free."

"Um… okay," the Protector said, suddenly no longer looking so sure of himself or in control. Tumblebrutus didn't fail to notice the embarrassed look on Munkustrap's face as they brushed past Demeter.

It really was very dark outside. The clouds were still thick across the sky. There were no lights glimmering up there. Tumblebrutus moved silently across to his den, averting his eyes from the sight of two young cats intertwined on top of the TSE1.

"So, where were we?" he said softly once they were both inside.

"You lost Jemima's scent."

"Oh, right." Tumblebrutus paused to gather his memories. "Well, I was just about ready to go back to the Junkyard when I saw blood. It was mixed up in the rainwater and flowing towards a drain. I called Jemima's name and then… I heard a voice."

_Tumble…brutus…?_

"Pouncival?" Munkustrap guessed and Tumblebrutus nodded wordlessly.

"Yeah. It was Pouncival. It took me a moment to recognize him."

_Tumble…_

That moment of recognition was clear and very painful in Tumblebrutus' head, a scar deeply embedded in his mind's eye. He winced.

"Keep going," Munkustrap urged. If Tumblebrutus hadn't known better, it would've looked as if Munkustrap was engrossed in the retelling of that night's events.

"Well, then I kinda tried to talk to him, but he wouldn't answer my questions. He just said Jemima's name and gestured towards the bin. I ran over there, checked she was alive, asked Pouncival what happened – he said he didn't know – and… then I went back to the Junkyard. With Jemima." Tumblebrutus' voice was tight.

"That's all?"

"Yes."

"Curious…" Munkustrap fiddled with one of his whiskers. "I'll trust you on this, Tumblebrutus, but we do have reason for suspicion now, you realize." Munkustrap looked very uncomfortable to say it, but it was out in the open. Tumblebrutus hung his head.

"I didn't do _anything_," he said weakly. "Don't… don't suspect me."

Munkustrap frowned. "I'm sorry."

The silence after that was tense.

"Well, Munkustrap," Tumblebrutus said finally. "I think you ought to go talk to Demeter."

"Ah… that, I will." Munkustrap walked towards the exit, turning back to send Tumblebrutus a piercing look before stepping out.

"Goodbye," Tumblebrutus said quietly. Munkustrap said nothing in return. Perhaps he was already out of earshot.

(x)(x)(x)

**Two days before the mating ceremony. Just shy of midnight.**

Being in their den and just seeing all the signs of his life with Jemima was enough to drive Tumblebrutus mad, so he went back outside and stared at the sky for a while. There was nothing to be seen up there.

"Everlasting Cat," he murmured. "What the _hell_ is happening?"

"Tumblebrutus?"

It was Mistoffelees, creeping out of his pipe, barely visible through the inky darkness.

"Yeah?"

"What are you doing?" Despite having just been woken up, Mistoffelees was clear-eyed and his voice was sharp.

"Not sleeping," Tumblebrutus said vaguely. "Wondering what I did to deserve this shit, you know."

Mistoffelees bit his lip. "Jellicle cats are magical, you know. There's upsides _and_ downsides to it."

"I was aware of that, yes," Tumblebrutus said shrewdly.

"But have you come to terms with what it means?" Mistoffelees said, quirking his lips in a smile. "C'mon, Tumble," he said with a gentle laugh. "You'll get through. I know you, and you're strong."

Tumblebrutus rolled his eyes. "What, so I'm going to wave my wand and everything will _magically_ be fixed because I'm a Jellicle? Of course! How did I not see it before?"

"Not quite," Mistoffelees said. "No wands involved. But there'll certainly be a lot for you to figure out over the coming days, I'm sure."

"That's really nothing new." Tumblebrutus turned to Mistoffelees, shaking his head. "Go on, go back to sleep, Misto. You're not helping."

"Sorry," the tuxedo cat shrugged. "Goodnight, Tumblebrutus," he added offhandedly as he returned to his pipe.

Tumblebrutus didn't reply.

Setting thoughts of Mistoffelees and his stupid talk of magic aside, Tumblebrutus decided that it might be a good time to visit Jemima. Perhaps seeing her would help to soothe his aching head.

(x)(x)(x)

**One day before the mating ceremony. Minutes after midnight.**

It turned out that seeing Jemima was, rather than being calming, a way to drive Tumblebrutus mad with questions. How could his fur have turned up the scene? And what on earth had been with that writing on the wall?

"Tumble…"

He'd forgotten about Pouncival again. While Jemima slept on, unaware of his presence, Pouncival was awake and struggling to sit up. Tumblebrutus didn't move.

"Brutus…"

"Yeah, Pounce?" he said wearily, a little surprised at the choked noise that was his voice.

"Why are you crying? You're _always _crying. You never used to." Pouncival was almost upright, but before he could gain his balance, he let out a little gasp and slumped back to the bed. Tumblebrutus sighed and went to help him up.

"I'm _not_ crying," Tumblebrutus said quickly. "But if I did cry it would be because I'm sad and sick off this whole affair." It was the simplest possible explanation that Tumblebrutus could offer. It was also, apparently, not enough to satisfy Pouncival.

"I know that," he said dryly, supporting himself on the arm that Tumblebrutus had just wrapped around his shoulders. "It'd have to take some sort of emotion to make you cry, wouldn't it?"

"I don't like seeing my soon-to-be mate lying there like she's dead," Tumblebrutus said. His words sounded as hollow as he felt.

"I wouldn't doubt it." Pouncival hummed thoughtfully in his throat, his large eyes finding their way across the room to Jemima's face. "But she's not dead."

"Munkustrap thinks I might have done it, you know," Tumblebrutus said in a great rush. Pouncival kept watching Jemima, silent. "He found my fur on a claw right where we found you on the ground."

"Do you remember fighting?" Pouncival asked. He still wasn't looking at Tumblebrutus.

"…No." Tumblebrutus shuddered. "I'm going mad."

Pouncival smiled without humour.


	2. Anticipation

**a/n: We're still mostly in exposition mode, but don't worry, it only gets more interesting from here on out. If you're reading, I'd love to hear any speculations or thoughts you may have about what exactly is going on. That's half the fun of trying to make things mysterious.**

**And if you are, by chance, an old reader of mine wondering why I'm back, the author's note on the second chapter of 'His Broken Belief' should clarify things.**

* * *

><p><em>anticipation<em>

* * *

><p><strong>One day before the mating ceremony. A few hours after sunrise.<strong>

Tumblebrutus woke up the next morning to quite the unpleasant surprise. He'd been slumped in a chair next to Jemima's bed, somehow having managed to sleep despite the awkwardness of the position. It was a tap on the shoulder that roused him.

"Tumblebrutus, morning," Munkustrap said brusquely as Tumblebrutus started.

"Er, hello," Tumblebrutus said, his voice thick with sleep. "Here to visit Jemima?"

"Well, yes and no," Munkustrap said, scratching his head. Even as sleepy as he was, Tumblebrutus sensed an intense discomfort radiating from the Protector. "Actually, I need to have a chat with you outside."

"Okay," Tumblebrutus said agreeably. "Lead the way."

The moment Tumblebrutus set foot outside the den, Munkustrap whipped out a pair of handcuffs. Before Tumblebrutus knew it, his hands were locked together. He stared blankly down at his cuffed wrists, too stunned to speak.

"Alright, come with me, then," Munkustrap said levelly. Tumblebrutus followed wordlessly. Maybe this was a dream? He'd been dreaming a lot, lately. Vividly, too, although he struggled to remember any of it. Jemima teased him a lot about it – she'd often wake him in the middle of a dream and he'd complain, yet be unable to produce any explanation of why the dream was so good he couldn't stand to wake.

But then Munkustrap was ushering him into a large, cage-like structure with one firm hand pressing on his back and all thoughts of dreams dissipated from his mind. The cage smelt rank, the metal framework encrusted with dirt. It clearly hadn't seen any use in a long time.

"Sorry for the state of the place," Munkustrap said, producing a key. It went to a rusted gold padlock that Tumblebrutus could see on the door to the cage. "I might see if anyone has any time to clean it out for you. We don't often have reason to lock anyone up, see."

"I didn't do it," Tumblebrutus said lowly, though the tremor in his voice belied the panic that was steadily building in his chest. "Why are you doing this?"

"It's just a precaution right now," Munkustrap explained in a sympathetic tone, even as he turned the key in the padlock with a dull click. "Orders of Deuteronomy. After all, you're related to both victims in this case _and_ a clump of your fur was found at the scene – ripped out violently, too. Plus that writing on the wall definitely wasn't there until after I left you there alone. So we need you checked up at the very least. There may be something wrong with you."

"You – you think I'm _dangerous_?" Tumblebrutus spat disbelievingly. "This is garbage! Jemima and Pouncival are the two cats I care most about! I'd never hurt them, either of them, not ever! And if I _had_, why would I be so quick to rescue them? If not for me finding her, Jemima would've bled out in that bin long before help reached her, and you know it!"

"I'm sorry," Munkustrap said, and his words seemed more genuine this time, his brow furrowing as he spoke. "I'm grateful to you, don't get me wrong. But like I said, this is only a precaution. Please try to bear it calmly so there's no further reason to suspect you."

Tumblebrutus lowered himself slowly to the ground and shifted against the bars, trying to find a way to lean back against them comfortably. "Fine," he said, his voice a lot more unruffled than he felt.

"Thanks for understanding," Munkustrap said. "Mitso'll be over soon to keep watch – good of him really, no one else was available. I'll be back to talk to you again sometime, so I'll see you then." He lifted a hand in a solemn wave before making his way back into the more populated area of the Junkyard. Tumblebrutus clenched his fists.

He hoped that someone would sort this mess out quickly. He wasn't going to be able to visit Jemima or Pouncival, not while he was stuck in this stupid cage. Nor would he have any way to investigate the crime. He was well and truly out of options.

(x)(x)(x)

**One day before the mating ceremony. Morning.**

True to Munkustrap's word, Mistoffelees showed up soon after Munkustrap had left. Tumblebrutus refrained from glowering at him. It wasn't Mistoffelees' fault that he got to be free while Tumblebrutus was locked up like some criminal.

"Hi," Mistoffelees said, cordial as ever. "If it's any consolation, I don't think you did it."

"It would be more of a consolation if you could let me out, or at least make this cage smell a bit better," Tumblebrutus said dryly.

Mistoffelees chuckled. "Well, how about this?" He waved a hand and the air in the cage was suddenly fresh and a little flowery.

"I guess you're good for something after all," Tumblebrutus relented with a tiny smile. Mistoffelees, who had his face pressed right up to the wiring of the cage, smiled back, eyes crinkling around the edges.

The two of them had never really been close. Both of them were Jellicle-born, but Mistoffelees had opted to hang out with the other kits their age while Tumblebrutus had always been best friends with Jemima, until Pouncival had joined the Jellicles and Jemima had starting hanging out more with the other queens her age. Then it had always been just him and Pouncival.

"Tumblebrutus," Mistoffelees said. "I… sense that a dangerous time is coming for you." All the mirth had left his face. His eyes were very dark.

"Huh?"

"Pardon my ambiguity. I'm afraid I can't go into much depth on this matter… there's always someone keeping an eye out, you see." Mistoffelees' eyes slid from side to side as he spoke, though he remained perfectly still and kept his voice level. As if there were, indeed, others watching their conversation.

"I don't understand," Tumblebrutus said, holding perfectly still himself.

"Relax a little bit," Mistoffelees said. "Try not to act like any of what I'm about to say is going to affect you. Can you promise me that?"

"Okay," Tumblebrutus said, eyes narrowing.

"You, Jemima and Pouncival are… dangerous, in a particular way," Mistoffelees said. Tumblebrutus, only because he'd promised, kept his face blank. "There's a toxicity spreading between the three of you. You need to clear it, or else I fear that death is inevitable for all of you – or even worse. I don't know yet. I don't know any of you well enough to be able to predict the outcome, only that it will be disastrous."

"Do you want to clarify that any further?" Tumblebrutus whispered.

"There's not much else I can say. It would be far too risky to do so – if I were to speak of what I suspect is the full truth here in the Junkyard, it might just make things worse. I, for one, am supporting you, so that's all I can say."

"You're not just… messing with me?" Tumblebrutus said weakly.

"I' m afraid not. I wish I was, really, as cruel of me it would be." Mistoffelees bit his lip. "I… have one last piece of advice for you. You need to leave. If you don't, I daresay you'll be found guilty for this crime."

Tumblebrutus raised an eyebrow. "On what grounds?"

"Intuition, perhaps. Feel free to believe me or not." Mistoffelees turned his head slightly, gazing thoughtfully at a pile of furniture stacked nearby.

"Okay, first of all, how do you propose I escape? Are you going to help me?"

"Can't do that, not unless things get dire. I'd like to keep out of trouble myself, if possible," Mistoffelees said wryly.

"Well, thanks a lot," Tumblebrutus sighed. "And secondly, won't that just cast more suspicion on me? The Jellicles will definitely think I'm guilty if I run away. They'll never let me back."

"That's definitely a flaw in the plan," Mistoffelees said softly. "Quite the flaw, yes. Is there a way for you to prove your innocence? I wonder."

"I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but I'm having a hard time understanding, let alone believing, most of what you're telling me," Tumblebrutus said after a long pause.

"I don't blame you at all," Mistoffelees said, turning back to Tumblebrutus. His eyes were wide, mouth twisted in a sympathetic smile. "I really don't. I didn't even expect you to be this agreeable, to be honest. All I need is for you to remember everything I said – keep it in mind."

"It's not like I have anything better to do than listen to you." Tumblebrutus drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. There was no way to be comfortable in this cramped space. Suddenly, a thought hit him. Perhaps Mistoffelees would know. "Misto. Yesterday, something strange happened…" He flicked his gaze sideways, checking that he had the other's attention.

"Go on," the tuxedo tom said.

"It was while we were investigating the place where Jemima and Pouncival were attacked. Munkustrap left me there alone, and…" He looked down, face pinched. "I noticed words on the wall. I swear they weren't there until I was alone. It was crazy stuff. Threats to Pouncival, and weird-"

Mistoffelees lifted a hand to stop him midsentence, expression grave. "I know. About there being words on the wall, at least. Munkustrap confided in me about that. He thinks you wrote them, you know. That you're coming down with some terrible affliction or something."

"Do you think so?" Tumblebrutus' voice was hollow. Perhaps Munkustrap was right, after all. How else could those words be explained…?

"No," Mistoffelees said simply. "I really don't. In fact, I came to a very different conclusion. Tell me, was there anything else odd other than the words on the wall?"

"Hmm… wait, yes, definitely," Tumblebrutus exclaimed, sitting up quickly. He'd almost forgotten about it in all the stress of being accused of committing the crime, but… "I heard a voice. Oh Bast, I totally forgot until now! It was someone looking for Pouncival."

"What did they say?"

"I…" Tumblebrutus wracked his head to no avail. "I'm sorry. I can't remember. Whoever it was snuck up on me and I, uh, fainted."

He expected Mistoffelees to laugh, but the other tom just heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. "It's not like it really matters," he said. "The fact that you heard such a voice only makes me more certain that this sense of dread I feel isn't unfounded."

"But that was the person who did it, right?" Tumblebrutus said desperately. "They attacked Pouncival and Jemima. Perhaps they have something against me?"

"Maybe? I can't answer that," Mistoffelees shrugged.

Tumblebrutus grit his teeth and shook his head, trying to mask his disappointment. After all his talk about his bad feelings and intuition, Tumblebrutus had felt so sure that Mistoffelees would at least be able to clear up one thing for him.

"Well, whatever," Tumblebrutus said. "Thanks anyway."

"You don't really have anything to thank me for," Mistoffelees said quietly.

_No, I don't,_ Tumblebrutus thought, but he gave the other cat a benign sort of look before leaning back, hoping, perhaps, to get a little sleep.

(x)(x)(x)

**One day before the mating ceremony. Evening.**

Various cats kept Tumblebrutus company all day, engaging him in so much small talk that he felt physically exhausted. Finally, Demeter's turn came. The queen took a single look at him before smiling sympathetically and perching on a nearby table, far enough away that Tumblebrutus felt almost like he was alone. He was grateful for that.

What had Mistoffelees said? That the relationship between Jemima, Pouncival and himself was toxic? If the magic cat was to be believed, then what exactly was the problem? They'd always been friends. But… no.

Pouncival and Jemima had been dating – before Pouncival disappeared three months ago, anyway. Tumblebrutus hadn't minded. They'd still included him, taken him nearly everywhere with them. It hadn't felt like they were dating at all, except for the occasional kiss they'd sneak in Tumblebrutus' presence, both of them blushing and glancing conspiratorially at him. Wondering if he minded. He'd just smile serenely every time. It didn't matter to him. They were still kind friends to him. It didn't matter.

Then Pouncival had disappeared, and both Jemima and Tumblebrutus had been distraught. They'd sought each other out for comfort and… well. Three months with only each other for company and it was only natural that they grew close. That Tumblebrutus, being at the right age to do so, had asked for her hand. That he'd wanted the sweet-faced queen to be his mate. She had been the only comfort left to him.

Perhaps that wasn't fair, though. She'd never officially broken up with Pouncival, after all, even if she said that it was nothing serious. Tumblebrutus felt his gut clench, discomforted by the thought. It hadn't been so bad while Pouncival had been missing, thinking about it. He'd always reminded himself that Pouncival dated around a lot, was charming and outgoing enough to catch himself a lot of queens. It had been astounding to Tumblebrutus. Still, Pouncival had sounded so awkward when he'd asked Tumblebrutus if he was dating her. Maybe he'd been more serious about Jemima than Tumblebrutus had realised.

Did Tumblebrutus still want to go through with mating Jemima? It wasn't right, was it? He'd be an awful friend to do it, if it offended Pouncival.

_Would I be okay giving her up for Pouncival's sake?_ Tumblebrutus wondered. _If the two of them are happy together… well, I have no right being a part of it, do I?_

(x)(x)(x)

**Midnight on the day of the mating ceremony. Nine hours until the scheduled start time.**

"Hey, Tumble. It's my turn to guard you."

Tumblebrutus turned his head groggily to see Plato depositing himself in a chair that he must have dragged over from some other part of the Junkyard. He smiled, though only thinly. He liked Plato, he did, but he wasn't exactly in the mood for entertaining visitors.

"How are you doing?" Plato continued, even though Tumblebrutus hadn't deigned to reply to his greeting.

"As well as I can in confinement like this." Tumblebrutus tipped his head back and sighed. "I can't stop thinking about it. Today's the day. Or, it should be the day. Jemima still hasn't woken up?"

"Not that I've heard," Plato said apologetically. "It was meant to start at nine in the morning, huh?"

"Yeah," Tumblebrutus said softly. How did everything go so wrong?

"It's a real shame. That Jemima won't wake up, and that they've stuck you in here. You're not the kind of guy who would ever hurt anyone," Plato said, oddly indignant. Tumblebrutus could only hope the rest of the Jellicles felt the same way.

"It's only a precaution," Tumlebrutus said, trying to inject some cheer into his tone. "I'll be out of here in no time." _Unless what Misto said is true and they're going to find me guilty for this. Then what? I'll be left here forever? Exiled? Executed for daring to lay a claw on the Protector's daughter?_

"Precaution it may be, but it still pisses me off," Plato sighed.

"Still, the longer I'm here, the more I realise that Munkustrap was totally justified in locking me up here," Tumblebrutus admitted.

"What do you mean? A bit of fur on a claw isn't enough to justify anything," Plato argued.

"Well, if it were only that, true. But the creepy writing on the wall… the more I think about that, the more uneasy I feel about this whole affair, you know?"

"Creepy writing on the wall?" Plato said sharply.

_Oops_. Tumblebrutus realised too late that perhaps that particular piece of information was classified to those involved in the investigation. He shrugged apologetically at Plato, who was leaning forward as if desperate for Tumblebrutus to explain further. "I'm probably not allowed to talk about it," he said.

"Oh? Oh well," Plato said. He did a good job of appearing unconcerned, but the tense lines of his body were evident. Even in the hours that followed and through all their idle conversation, Tumblebrutus noticed that Plato's hands stayed clenched into fists.

(x)(x)(x)

**Nine in the morning on the day of the mating ceremony. **

Tumblebrutus could tell by the position of the sun in the sky – it was time. Right now, the festivities were meant to be breaking out. Everyone should've been crowding together in the centre of the Junkyard, Tumblebrutus waiting in the midst of it all for his beautiful Jemima to arrive in her best dress.

But… no.

At least he was alone, if only for a short time. Plato had just left and Munkustrap would be here soon to replace him. He'd probably have all sorts of irritating questions to ask Tumblebrutus, too – questions that Tumblebrutus would have absolutely no way to answer.

"Psst."

Tumblebrutus started, then looked around wildly.

"Behind the furniture," the voice said. Tumblebrutus narrowed his eyes, trying to discern a figure by the pile of furniture. Finally, he made out a waving tail.

"What…?"

"I'm going to let you out," the voice said. And out stepped Pouncival, looking healthy and strong as could be. He wore a hood that cast a shadow over his face, but Tumblebrutus could still see eyes sparkling with warmth and vitality. As Tumblebrutus gaped at him, he tilted his head and smiled in a way that almost looked mocking. "Or do you want to rot here? Come on, Tumble. You need to come with me." There was a key in his hand – it slotted perfectly into the padlock. Then the door was swinging open and Pouncival was stretching out a hand.

"I…" Tumblebrutus spluttered.

"Don't tell me… you don't want to come?" Pouncival's face crumpled. Now that Tumblebrutus could see him without the wiring of the cage obscuring his features, there was something decidedly off. If only he could figure out what. He couldn't really tell – the hood had fallen further over Pouncival's face.

"I… yeah, I'll come," Tumblebrutus said warily, his hand reaching up to take hold of Pouncival's.

Pouncival's answering smile was brilliant. "Oh, Tumble," he said, fingers lightly caressing the back of Tumblebrutus' hand. "I'm so glad."

Then, with the hand that wasn't holding Tumblebrutus', he brought a fist up into Tumblebrutus' jaw. He registered pain for the briefest of moments before he was unconscious.


	3. Alienation

_alienation_

* * *

><p><strong>The day of the mating ceremony. Nine in the morning.<strong>

Pouncival was bored as hell.

And he had every right to be! Tumblebrutus hadn't shown up in ages – thrown into a cell, for Bast's sake – and Jemima was an incredibly dull roommate. There was only so long Pouncival could watch her sleeping before he felt like a giant creep and opted to stare at the wall instead. And, well, perhaps Jemima was a _tad_ more interesting than the wall. Basically, there wasn't anything for Pouncival to distract himself with.

She was still so pretty. More mature than he remembered her being, her hands somehow more elegant, even as they lay flat on the sheets. Pouncival had always judged cats by their hands. Much more honest than faces, which could be so easily manipulated.

But she was Tumblebrutus' now – and so be it. Pouncival had no right to her after being away for so long. He didn't mind. _It's nice that Tumble's finally found someone to fulfil all his ideals with,_ he thought fondly, his chest aching in what he sternly told himself was tenderness.

Just then, there was a sound outside the den. Pouncival immediately closed his eyes in the pretence of sleep – even now, even though he _knew_ he was safe, he still felt terrible fear when anyone approached him too quickly. It was okay when it was Tumblebrutus, Tumblebrutus who was always so gentle, but the other Jellicles were far too loud. Far too careless with their movements and words. Pouncival clenched his teeth. Even Tumblebrutus was careless sometimes.

"Pouncival! Pouncival, wake up!" someone cried. He pried open an eye, trying to unclench his hands from his blankets. He was aware that everyone thought he was frail and broken, but he hated it. He needed them to know he could recover and be strong again.

It was Plato. The tall tom was radiating distress. When he saw Pouncival looking at him, he started to speak very rapidly. "Tumble's gone! Disappeared from the cage!"

"Huh?"

"It's unbelievable. There's no sign he forced his way out, and Munkustrap realised that someone's managed to take the key. Someone helped him escape." Plato took a deep breath and smiled sheepishly. "I actually thought it was you. I mean, you're definitely light enough on your feet to be able to trick Munkustrap like that and you're his best friend. But I asked Jenny – she's just outside – and she says you definitely haven't left the den since the day they found you. So, sorry. My bad."

"That's… that's okay, but Tumble's gone?" Pouncival said shakily.

"Without a trace," Plato said. He sat on the end of the bed, turning regretful eyes upon Pouncival. "No one's been able to find a scent or a trace of whoever helped him, and following Tumble's trail is just about impossible. It's like his scent just evaporates from your nostrils. Pretty much like… well, when you disappeared," Plato said quietly, and everyone about him – his voice, his stance, his eyes – was dead serious now.

"O-o-oh?" Pouncival whispered, unable to help the trembling of his voice. _No, don't tell me…! Not Tumble, please…!_

"What happened to you, anyway?" Plato said quietly, laying a hand on Pouncival's exposed arm. Pouncival flinched at the contact, but Plato didn't remove his hand. "And why is Tumble running away as if he's guilty when he's always been the gentlest guy I know?"

"I don't know," Pouncival gasped out, trying to shuffle back, away from Plato. "I don't know anything. Please… please…" Plato made to move closer again, suspicion growing in his eyes, but Pouncival let out a shout of terror. "No! _Stay back_!"

"What's going on in there?" Jennyanydots asked sharply, her figure appearing at the entrance to the den. "Plato, what on earth are you doing?"

"I'm sorry," Plato said, smoothly standing up. "I forgot that poor Pouncival is so traumatised right now. Really sorry." But his face, obscured from Jennyanydots' view, was cold, his harsh gaze directed right at Pouncival. Accusing. Pouncival could only tremble.

"You should leave," Jennyanydots said coolly, taking Plato's arm and practically hauling him out of the den. Pouncival heard her lecturing him, the sound of her voice muffled, but he hardly took any notice. He just had… to calm down…

But Tumblebrutus! _Oh Bast oh Bast oh Bast what am I going to do not Tumble __**please**__…_

(x)(x)(x)

**Eleven in the morning on the day of the mating ceremony.**

It took him a while to calm down; for his thoughts to gain any coherence. Jenny had tucked him back into his bed, somehow. He'd struggled when she'd touched him, unable to help himself, but she'd been gentle and quiet with him. He fell asleep after that, exhausted.

He woke up much later to a sound across the room. A funny moaning noise. Pouncival rolled over onto his side and it was immediately obvious that Jemima's eyes were open.

"Jemima," he said. Just like he had, she rolled over. Now they were facing each other. The den was so cramped that if Pouncival were to stretch out an arm, he could probably touch those fluttering eyelids or that crinkling nose.

"P-Pouncival…? Is that you? Where are we?" Jemima whispered. Her voice sounded small, empty and without its usual lilting cadence.

"The hospital den," Pouncival whispered back.

Jemima's eyes widened. She sat up quickly, wincing, and stared down in horror at the bandaging around her torso, the lacerations across her arms that Jennyanydots had covered in a healing cream. "What happened? I… I don't remember anything," she sobbed, her breathing quickening rapidly.

"Hard to explain," Pouncival said, easing to and upright position and reaching out a hand. She took it, though her breathing didn't slow. It didn't stop the tears, either.

"Pouncival, aren't you gone?" she gasped out in between sobs, clenching his hand tightly. "I thought you were gone."

"I _was_ gone," he said quietly.

"Don't go again." She pulled roughly at his hand, nearly hauling him off the bed. To stop her from actually pulling him to the ground, he got up and crouched next to her bed. She placed another hand in his hair, stroking through it with amazement and disbelief in her wide eyes. They stayed like that for a few moments, Jemima's breathing finally slowing, before she said, "Where's Tumble?"

Pouncival closed his eyes, the aching dread in his gut reawakening. "I don't know. I'm so sorry."

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why sorry?" Jemima demanded, her voice hysterical.

"I don't – I don't know – I just said," Pouncival stuttered. "He's going to be your mate. Why wouldn't I say I'm sorry?"

"My mate? What are you talking abou-" Jemima went silent. Then she drew away from Pouncival very slowly, drawing her hands back and wrapping her arms around herself as she pressed back against the wall. "Pouncival… you…"

"What?"

"Never mind."

"Did you remember something?" Pouncival asked, trying to keep his voice gentle.

"I don't know," Jemima said, but her eyes were troubled and she was turning her cheek to him. Pouncival sighed and returned to his own bed.

"I always hate it when you go all closed-off like that," he muttered sullenly, but there was no reply. Not even an indication that she'd heard him.

(x)(x)(x)

**One day after when the mating ceremony **_**should**_** have been, and one day after Tumblebrutus disappeared. Midday.**

It was driving Pouncival mad, being stuck in the den. They'd taken Jemima out to be questioned – about _what_? Pouncival wanted to know too! – and he was left there by himself. Left alone with only his own, awful thoughts for company. He took to pulling his own hair out, just one strand at a time, and it hurt like hell but it was oddly satisfying. When Jennyanydots noticed him doing it, she sternly told him to stop, so he started biting the skin off his lips instead.

It was only a day later that he Plato returned. He stayed back at the entrance of the den, his expression totally blank.

"Pouncival," he said politely, and what had happened to the old familiarity they'd had? They'd been friends before Pouncival had disappeared for three months, hadn't they? "We're all meeting in the main area. Everyone's required. Do you need a hand?"

"I'm fine," Pouncival said quickly, not wanting those guarded eyes to linger on him any longer.

"Glad to hear it," Plato said, turning abruptly and moving away. Pouncival took a couple of deep breaths before getting up. Teetering just a little bit, he followed Plato, not trusting himself to remember the intricate layout of the Junkyard.

The sky was awfully blue, so blue it hurt Pouncival's eyes. He was unadjusted to the light – could barely see in it. He kept stumbling over his own feet. His own body was betraying him so terribly. Had he really once been an acrobat?

He did make it to where everyone was gathered, though. They all looked at him as he swayed and stumbled his way over, eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun. Someone stood, perhaps to help him, but he should his head wildly and sat himself down at the edge of the crowd. Straining his eyes, he could see Jemima perched on top of the TSE1, Munkustrap and Demeter hovering behind her.

"I… wanted to announce it publicly," Jemima said, her voice wavering but clear. "It took me a while to remember, but I have no doubts now. I know who kidnapped me that night. And I think it's important for everyone here to know."

There was a collective gasp. A couple of Jellicles started whispering, but Munkustrap shook his head at them and they stopped immediately.

"There were two of them, I think," Jemima continued, when the noise had died down. "One cat knocked me out first and dragged me to an alley. That's where I woke up and saw them together." Jemima took a deep breath. "They were arguing. I'm not sure what they were arguing about – it's all a bit unclear in my mind. Their identities were obvious, though. I know for certain, even though it hurts me to imagine that… that Tumble and Pounce were the ones to do this to me."

Silence. Every face slowly turning to Pouncival, who was frozen on the spot. "No," he spluttered. "I never – no, Jemima– "

"I _saw_ you," she said, her voice high with a mixture of anger and distress. "I _heard _you."

Pouncival let out a frustrated sob.

"Explain yourself," Munkustrap called from where he stood ramrod straight on the TSE1, his voice very cold.

_But how can I ever explain this_? Pouncival wondered. He couldn't. There was no way. And before he even knew it, he was running. He was faintly aware of the Jellicles moving to stop him, but no. They couldn't.

If there was one thing he'd perfected these last three months, it was the art of escaping.

(x)(x)(x)

**One day after Tumblebrutus disappeared. One hour after Pouncival ran.**

"I feel awful," Jemima admitted. "Is that bad? That I feel so guilty for telling the truth?"

"It's understandable, but you shouldn't feel guilty about it," Demeter said gently, stroking Jemima's hair. They were in their den, sitting on the floor and against the bed that her parents shared. Her mother sat close beside her, obviously desperate to offer comfort – and that was comforting in itself – while Munkustrap was pacing back and forth past the entrance to the den, which was decidedly less comforting.

"You're sure about what you saw?" Munkustrap said, and his face was tortured. Indecisive.

"I hate it, but yes, I'm certain," Jemima said. She'd had the suspicion mere minutes after she'd awoken, a trembling Pouncival clinging to her hand even as vague images of him standing in the rain flashed through her mind.

Munkustrap cursed under his breath – unusual for the usually collected tom. "But why? Nothing about this makes sense. Tumblebrutus has never shown any tendency towards violence. Bast, I always thought he was the most gentle of us all."

"In truth, I don't remember much else other than waking up and seeing them arguing," Jemima admitted. "But they were there, and neither of them were trying to help me."

"Do you have a theory, Munkustrap?" Demeter asked.

"Well… right now, it sort of looks like it was Tumblebrutus who mauled both Jemima and Pouncival, doesn't it? He was the only one to make it out unscathed and he was pretty quick to escape that cell. Clearly, he didn't feel that he was innocent." Munkustrap sighed, tapping a finger against his cheek. "I hate it, though. My gut told me that he was innocent. It doesn't match up."

"What about Pouncival?" Jemima said tentatively.

"He's been really off ever since he came back, Jennyanydots was saying," Demeter said thoughtfully. "Really jumpy and irritable. He apparently didn't want to talk to anyone except Tumblebrutus."

"Yes, Pouncival does seem rather suspicious. Not to mention his past," Munkustrap added, seemingly as an afterthought. "He wasn't born here. He's a little less predictable than the rest of us, wouldn't you say?"

"I still remember the first time we saw him," Demeter shuddered. "Great Bast, it was _awful_…"

"No, don't say things like that," Jemima said suddenly. "Don't talk about what he was like when he first arrived. Pouncival's a wonderful guy, and he's a Jellicle. He's been a Jellicle for many years. What if… there was someone else? A third cat?"

Munkustrap halted in his pacing, looking over at Jemima. "Do you think that's likely?"

"Well, maybe." She met his eyes and wondered if her gaze looked as desperate as she felt.

Munkustrap shook his head, though not dismissively. "It's hard to say anything when we know so little. More investigation is in order – and a lot of search parties." He heaved a deep sigh, scrubbing his hands wearily through his hair.

"By the way," Demeter murmured, twirling a piece of Jemima's hair around her finger. "Why were you so insistent on making that announcement publicly?"

"I wanted to shock an explanation out of Pouncival, I guess," Jemima answered after a moment's thought. "And…"

"And, what?"

"Nothing." Jemima tilted her face sideways and smiled apologetically at her mother. Her precious mother.

_I wanted to give him a chance to get away, if that's what he needed to do. I still believe in him, after all._

(x)(x)(x)

**One day after Tumblebrutus disappeared. Late at night.**

It was later that night, after Jemima returned to the hospital den in the hopes of some time to herself, that she had an unexpected visitor.

"Quite the turn of events we've had today, huh?" Mistoffelees said as he walked into the den and deposited himself on the bed that Pouncival had been resting in not so long ago. He quirked a smile at Jemima, who grimaced at him. Trust Mistoffelees to turn up totally uninvited like this.

"If you don't mind," Jemima said, trying to at least uphold some pretence of patience and politeness, "I'm just about to go to bed."

"Ah, my apologies," Mistoffelees said. "I'll be quick. Jemima, do you remember at all… hmm, how do I put this? What were Tumblebrutus and Pouncival like when you saw them in that alley?"

"I don't really remember much other than that they were arguing. And that they weren't making any move to help me."

Mistoffelees puffed out his cheeks, staring thoughtfully at his hands. "Okay, try remembering now," he said, lifting one of his hands and pointing a finger directly at her forehead. She did.

(x)(x)(x)

**Three days before the mating ceremony. Evening.**

"Why did you have to do that?" Tumblebrutus sobbed. "Why? There was no need!"

"It was for fun," Pouncival said, sneering. "I hardly get the chance, anyhow. He's slippery. Now's one of the few times I've managed to catch him so off guard."

Jemima, head lolling, her body cramped into some small and dirty space, let out a tiny moan. If she looked up a little, she could make out the figures of the two toms not too far off.

"What's this? Do we have an uninvited audience?" Pouncival called. Tumblebrutus visibly started.

"Please stop!" he begged. "None of this is necessary!"

"What a wimp," Pouncival snarled. "I'd say you're the unnecessary one."

One of the dark figures leapt straight at the other. There was some shrieking – mostly from Tumblebrutus, it sounded like – then Jemima saw him stumbling away, whimpering, until he was well out of sight.

"Oh?" Pouncival laughed mockingly. "I hardly scratched him. I only caught his tail before he went running. What do _you_ think of that, huh? How pathetic. Just like you. Nothing like his true self." Jemima thought it sounded as if Pouncival was talking to someone, but as far as she could see, no one was there. Was he…talking to her? "Wait… someone's coming. For fuck's sake." Jemima watched as Pouncival wavered at the end of the alley for a few moments before spinning on his heel and running away.

(x)(x)(x)

**One day after Tumblebrutus disappeared. Late at night.**

"What… was that?" Jemima gasped, returning to herself so quickly that her head spun.

"Oh? Did it work? I've been trying out some new spells. That one was meant to heighten the abilities of our minds – so, did it help you remember anything?"

"Yeah, it's all a lot clearer now. Before I could only remember seeing a few things, but just then I felt like I was actually back in the alley again." Jemima pressed her lips together, trying to calm herself. Perhaps, somewhere in that memory, was the key to solving this mystery. One thing seemed certain, however. "Tumblebrutus… I don't think he did anything to hurt either of us," Jemima said slowly.

"What makes you say so?"

"Well, Pouncival was there and… I don't know, it seemed like he was talking about catching someone and doing something to them. Tumblebrutus was pretty upset about it. Then Pouncival attacked Tumble, who didn't even put up a fight. He just ran. He was, well, a real coward the whole time."

"Yet he was also the one who rescued you."

Jemima sighed. "I don't remember that at all. I think I blacked out."

"And what of Pouncival? He was found there with you, remember – injured just as badly as you."

"Pouncival? He ran away too. He said he heard someone coming and seemed pretty freaked out about it, so he left. He must've come back, though… perhaps he got into a fight with whoever turned up?"

"Well, maybe," Mistoffelees said, but something in his tone implied that he already had all the answers he needed.

"Misto, do you– "

"Jemima." Mistoffelees interrupted her before she could ask him what he thought of all this. "What are you afraid of?"

"Huh?"

Mistoffelees smiled wryly. "Is it losing Tumblebrutus and Pouncival that you worry most about? Probably not, huh. Thank you, anyway, Jemima. I learned a lot." He swept a bow to her before making his way outside.

"Hey, wait!" Jemima called, but there was no reply.

(x)(x)(x)

**One day after Tumblebrutus disappeared. One hour after Pouncival ran.**

Pouncival ran and ran. Ran until he was exhausted, then ran even more. He ran until he fell to his knees, wheezing for breath, clutching at his sides. _This again. I thought maybe I was safe in the Junkyard, but screw the Junkyard. No one in the world's looking out for me but myself. No… not even myself…_

"Pounce…?"

Pouncival looked up, his train of thought broken. Crouched in front of him was Tumblebrutus, a very pale-looking Tumblebrutus, his expression gentle.

"Are you okay, Pounce? What are you doing?" he continued, tilting his head.

Pouncival looked at him a little longer and drunk in that familiar face. He smiled wryly – let loose a single laugh, though it was a mirthless sound. Then, he leapt forward, bowled the other tom over and held a claw to his neck.

"So, who exactly are _you_?" he spat.

Tumblebrutus' eyes widened.

(x)(x)(x)

**a/n: merry christmas everyone. well, it's christmas here in nz anyhow. didn't really go over this in my haste to get it up, but it should be alright.**


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